She sashayed from the room and left him to wonder what the fuck he was getting involved in. He'd be damned, however, if that Harry person was going to get his hands on his woman. Sven's gut clenched at the unwelcome image of Sylvia with any other man, and he glared at her wedding pictures on the mantel piece. The slave collar around Sylvia's neck darkened his mood further. What the fuck? So she'd been owned. Why should this bother him? Since when had he been the possessive type?
****
Having achieved the seemingly impossible with Timmy finally asleep, Sylvia went in search of Ruby. A hug and a quiet chat later, Ruby's ruffled feathers were soothed, and Sylvia checked on Alicia, who promptly sent her away.
"Stop stalling, Mum, and get down there already. The man is waiting for you."
"Yes, well, he can wait. With a bit of luck, he'll bugger off and leave me alone."
Alicia was revising, and she put the textbook down very slowly. She fixed her with one of those long, assessing stares she'd perfected since she was knee-high. Sometimes, Sylvia wondered who the parent was. She and Alicia had been on their own for almost five years before her marriage to Richard, and whilst Richard had been kind to his stepdaughter, Alicia's credo of “you and me against the rest of the world, Mum” had never quite faded. She'd always been much older and wiser than her actual age, and, for the umpteenth time, the all too familiar feelings of guilt churned in Sylvia's stomach. Had she made her daughter this way? Had she been relying too much on Alicia, especially since Richard's accident in that fatal car crash? She squirmed under her eldest’s scrutiny, and she shouldn't have been surprised at the direct words that followed.
"Is that really what you want, Mum? Because I may be barking up the wrong proverbial here, but the way that man has been eating you alive with his eyes all through dinner, I don't think he's going anywhere soon. And the way you act around him, you certainly don't give the impression that you want him to be anywhere else but in your knickers."
"Alicia!"
She didn't quite pull off the outraged tones she'd been hoping for, because Alicia just raised her eyebrows, before pulling her into a long hug.
"It's okay to be afraid, Mum. But really what have you got to lose? Apart from some awesome sex of course."
"Ali, you know damn well there is more to life than sex. And besides, if the rumors are true then he's into kinky sex, and I'm not at all sure I'm ready for that again."
"True, but, Mum, you love reading the stuff again, so maybe now you need to get back to it. I think after your marriage to Dad and all the shit since, you bloody well deserve some mind-blowing orgasms, and if anyone can give you those then surely it's him downstairs. Don't even try to deny it, Mother. The rabbit I bought you for Christmas will never compare. I'm not asking you to fall in love with him and go for the whole happy-ever-after thing, but hell's bells, loosen up and just go with it for once. You deserve it."
And she unceremoniously shoved her out of the door, and Sylvia took refuge in the bathroom.
She was not hiding, she told herself. She was simply weighing up her options. Kid yourself much? What options would those be exactly?
It was awfully quiet downstairs when she finally emerged from the bathroom, and Sylvia paused on the bottom step, now, listening to Sven's deep voice talk in Swedish. God, if that wasn't the sexiest sound ever. If she was this turned on just from listen to him speak to someone on the phone, there really was no hope for her. What the hell was she going to do? Could she really just throw caution to the wind and explore this thing between them?
By the time her wobbly legs finally carried her through to the living room, he'd finished his phone call. One hand braced against her fireplace, his hair a delightful mess as though he'd run his hands through it repeatedly, he studied the family pictures on the mantel with a grim expression. Sylvia allowed her eyes to feast freely, her breathing erratic as she took in the broad shoulders, lean hips, and tight backside, perfectly showcased in his jeans. As though he'd sensed her presence, he turned round slowly, and the normally cool room changed into a furnace. His gaze explored her body slowly, resting a heart-stopping moment too long on her nipples, which appeared to have a life of their own, before he settled on her face.
"Hej, Mr. Hard Head finally asleep?"
Sylvia could only nod, not trusting her voice at all.
"I'm sorry if my presence made the whole bedtime routine more of an ordeal than it needed to be. Guess I wound him up a bit too much."
"You think?"
Thank God for sarcasm. Her voice sounded almost normal. Now, if only she could forget she knew exactly what he was hiding under that loose-fitting shirt.
"Why are you still here? Surely there isn't anything else you can want. I'm not interested in whatever arrangement Vera alluded to in her last few messages."
"You did listen to them, then?"
Oh, for pity's sake, did he think she was dim or something?
"Of course I listened to them. The fact that I didn't respond should have told you that I'm not interested, so…" She turned back toward the door, and gestured for him to follow, but the stubborn man was not getting the hint. "Really, Sven, thanks for the pizza and whatever, but you need to leave."
"Why, expecting Harry?"
"I … how do you know about Harry? Not that he's any of your business."
"Alicia seems to think he should be my business. In fact, she said you could do with my help, and never let it be said that I don't help out a lady in distress. Especially when she's done so much for me already."
Heat washed into Sylvia's cheeks in mortal embarrassment at the wicked gleam in those blue eyes.
"I didn't, I mean, I haven't… And I certainly don't need payment for whatever I might've done under the influence of too much champagne that night. Oh, for God's sake, just leave. I don't need or want your help. What happened that night was completely out of character for me, and it'll not happen again!"
The fine hair on her neck warned her of his quiet approach, and before she could move away, two warm hands came round her waist and turned her round to face him.
"Look at me, älskling. What exactly do you think happened that night?"
Oh, no, she couldn't do this. He was too close, and she was too aware of him, her body's immediate reaction too potent. He forced her to look up at him by cupping her chin gently in his hand. Instead of the devious grin she expected, however, the blue eyes searching her face were warm, and, yes, full of male admiration, but also something else that she couldn't quite decipher.
****
The rush of protectiveness floored him, and obliterated any other desires he had at that moment. Any thought of teasing her went out of the window at what he saw in her eyes, and, not for the first time, he wondered who or what had made her so weary, that she seemed terrified to admit her own needs. And her body's reaction left him in no doubt that she wanted him, no matter how much she might deny it. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils wide, and her breath labored. He willed his own raring erection to calm down. Now was not the time for sex, regardless of how easy it would be to run his hand under her summer skirt, find her slick folds, and bury himself deep inside her soft flesh. That she would be ready for him, he had no doubt. The sweet scent of her arousal was in the air between them as he tucked her closer, mindful to keep his hips away from her.
"Would it help to know that all you did was sleep with me?"
Her sharp intake of breath and the renewed heat in her cheeks had more unwanted affection well up inside of him. He so needed to fuck her silly. That had to be the reason for the sappy feelings he was having right now.
"As in sleep, not have sex, Sylvia. You were completely out, and, call me old-fashioned, but I do prefer my women responsive in bed."
He chuckled to himself at the myriad of expressions that flitted across her face, shock, embarrassment, denial, and confusion.
"But I don't understand. If we didn't, then what the hell am I supposed to have done for you?"
"You really don't get it, do you?"
Sylvia shook her head at him, her nose wrinkled in worried confusion, and he had to resist the urge to draw her in closer and kiss those worry lines away. Instead, he took a few steps back, not trusting himself not to act on his baser impulses. His cock was still sitting up and screaming, "Come to Papa."
"Really, Sven, what have I done? I know Vera warbled on about your image and what not, but seriously? Unless you really expected me to run to the papers… Oh, my God, that's it, isn't it? You were expecting me to sell you out, weren't you?"
Sylvia looked furious and hot as hell. Her blue eyes blazed with indignation and set him on fire from the inside out.
"I told you then you didn't need any gag order. I would never run to the papers. No self-respecting woman would, and, if you automatically expect that of people, then I feel sorry for you, I really do."
"Now, you sound like my mother, woman."
"Don't woman me, Sven. Maybe you should listen to her more, and now that we've got that cleared up, really leave!"
No way!
"No."
She growled in that devilishly sexy way again, and he did the only thing he could do. He covered the short distance between them and shut her protest up with his mouth.
****
One minute, he stood watching her, the next, he'd grabbed her and pinned her against him. His mouth firmly clamped on hers, he muffled her shriek of surprise. Oh hell.
Heat suffused her instantly. Her moan allowed him access, and with a groan of his own, his tongue found hers whilst he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms high above her head. The action pushed her breasts flat into his chest, and he ground his rock-hard erection into her lower belly. Sylvia lost all sense of time, and she gave herself up to the sensation of being held, as her own tongue dueled with his in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever. Her whole body enveloped in his hard warmth, that clever tongue of his teased and suckled. He explored every crevice of her mouth with increasing thoroughness, withdrawing just enough for Sylvia to gasp some much needed oxygen, before he claimed her again. The initial urgency was now replaced by a gentle adoration that made her wish he would never let her go.
When he finally released her with one last gentle nip of teeth on her bottom lip, his breathing was as harsh as her own. The muffled curse he uttered into her hair mirrored her own feelings exactly.
"Bloody hell, woman, what a kiss."
No shit, Sherlock.
He pulled away from her with a rueful smile, and his thumb swiped across her bottom lip. Those amazing eyes of his, the deepest blue she'd ever seen them.
"If your kids weren't upstairs, nothing would stop me from making you scream."
Oh God. If he wasn't still holding on to her, she was sure she'd have just slid to the floor at those growled words.
"You okay?"
Was she okay? The man had just kissed her senseless, and he wanted to know whether she was okay? Sylvia couldn't help the hysterical bubble of laughter that escaped, and she shook her head, pushed against his chest, and locked her knees.
"No, I'm not okay. Don't you dare kiss me like that again unless you have the intention on following through."
His answering smile was pure sin itself.
"We have ourselves a deal, lady. Now, tell me about Harry."
Chapter Five
"Sven, I do not want to see Mum back here before Monday morning when I have to be back at college." With those ominous words, Alicia all but shoved her mum out of the front door and handed a chuckling Sven an overnight suitcase.
"Ohh, going away then, Sylvia? Have fun. I know I would if I were taking a trip with him. Yum yum." Her neighbor's voice carried across Sylvia’s front garden.
Oh, for goodness sakes, could this get any more embarrassing? Where was the magic hole to fall into when you needed it? As if she wasn't nervous enough about bringing Sven to Peggy's dinner. Now, her nosy and slightly loopy, though kind, neighbor witnessed her being handed over to him like some parcel.
"Hello, Mrs. Robinson, how are you today? Got that new story plotted out yet?" Alicia's cheery greeting set Sylvia's cheeks on fire. Oh, good God!
"So kind of you to ask, Alicia. I'm getting there, and, thanks to handsome here, I've just found my perfect inspiration for the hero."
"Hero?" Sven asked. He looked from Alicia to the beaming older woman with a slightly puzzled expression before his eyes sought hers, and Sylvia took pity on him.
"Jo writes male erotica, and her books are very popular."
Her neighbor's smile broadened at Sven's amused laugh.
"Really? What interesting neighbors you have, Sylvia. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Robinson, and, if I do make it into one your books, I'll expect a copy in return."
"Naturally … handsome. Now, you go and show our Sylvia here a good time, and don't do anything I wouldn't."
With a wink, she mercifully disappeared up her garden path.
Really, what next? Sylvia was uncomfortably aware of the amount of curtain twitching going on. She forgot about the army of ants that had started to march under her skin the minute the doorbell announced Sven's arrival, so immediate was the need to get off the doorstep and retreat from view. As if he'd sensed her agitation, Sven's hand settled on the small of her back. Instant heat flared up at his touch through the sheer material of her silk dress, and he guided her to the sleek Jaguar where his driver was patiently waiting for them.
"Don't worry, Mum. Timmy will not have time to miss you. Rubes and I have the weekend all planned out. Just enjoy yourself and let him get Aunt Peg. Shame I can't be a fly on the wall." And with one last hug from her eldest Sylvia sank into the plush interior of the luxury car, grateful for the blacked-out windows that hid her from the neighbors.
Sliding in into the seat next to her, Sven gave her renewed palpitations, as the back seat seemed to shrink in on itself. Did he have to sit so close? His scent assaulted her and threatened to send her into cardiac failure. The sleek interior seemed devoid of oxygen. What on earth was she doing? Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Bringing him to Peggy's was akin to suicide, and, as for spending the weekend with him, her heart would never survive it.
Sven gave quiet instructions to his driver.
"Let's get out of here, George. We've given them enough to gape at."
He took her hand, interlinking their fingers, and she drew a shuddering breath into her lungs.
"Why so nervous, älskling? It's only a dinner."
****
Sylvia's heartbeat raced under his fingertips, and he tightened his hold on her hand automatically. But then she snatched it away and scooted as far away from him as she could.
"This is a mistake, Sven. It'll never work. I appreciate your offer of help, but I never should have agreed to it. Peggy will not even let you in the house, I'm sure, and Harry isn't your problem, he's mine."
"That's where you're wrong. I told you yesterday, Harry is very much my problem. I take great issue to men forcing themselves on women." Especially when the woman is mine, he added mentally, and forced his clenched hands to relax. She was nervous enough without him displaying his famous temper. He would save that for Harry.
When he'd brought the subject up the day before, Sylvia had turned into a nervous wreck in front of him, once again making him wonder what on earth was going on. He'd eventually got her to admit that Harry had been hounding her with marriage proposals, urged on by her sister–in-law and seemed to think that Sylvia's refusal so far was just coyness on her part. He clearly didn't know her at all, if he thought that. His little firecracker most certainly knew what she wanted, and, whilst Sven was not averse to using some gentle persuasion, he would never force himself on a woman when he was so clearly not wanted, regardless of what had been reported about him in the papers. It went against anything he'd ever been taught in the lifestyle, not that she knew about that yet, and he wasn't at all sure it would be wise to reveal that side of him any time soon. At least Sylvi
a had experience in the lifestyle. It no doubt explained why he'd been so drawn to her, from the get-go. Whether he could trust her enough to reveal that side of him remained to be seen.
As it was, the latest kiss-and-tell shamble six months ago had seen his reputation in the business hit rock bottom, and he'd not had any decent script offers since. Whilst the paper had been forced to print a full apology, mud stuck, and he stood no chance of getting the backing for the film he wanted, no, he fucking needed to shoot, damn it. He owed his family that much. Seeing Sylvia worry her bottom lip with her teeth, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she reiterated over and over that she was never getting married again, had sent all his protective instincts into hyper alert. Clearly all had not been well in Sylvia's marriage to the much older Richard, and he had to force himself to not let her see the potent fury at what he was imagining. No fucking way was he going to let her enter the lion's den on her own.
"He's not forcing himself on anyone, Sven, he's just…"
Her whispered words brought him back to the present. Sylvia was looking at him warily. Her eyes searched his face. The single worry line between her brows made him wonder how much of those latest thoughts had been mirrored on his face. He forced a smile on his lips.
"Just what? He is not taking no for an answer, is he? Which makes him a jerk. I told you, you'll have in me the image of the doting boyfriend, and, if that doesn't work to make the man back off, well…"
He let the words trail off, a sneer on his face, as he imagined how satisfying it would be to plant a fist in the man's face.
"And that would make you as bad as him, Sven. Sheesh, what is it with you men, thinking violence is the answer to everything?"
A heavy silence descended between them, as Sylvia shrank in on herself again. His gut churned at what he read in those tortured eyes of hers for just a second before she resolutely stared out of the window, her hands clenched in her lap.
The Housewife and the Film Star Page 4